“Goodness, I think I shall die before I find the time to eat so many sandwiches!” the witch exclaimed.

It was not merely sandwiches: Mrs. Parker had also furnished them with scones, cream, jams, grapes, meat pies, and a roast chicken, to say nothing of the pastries for dessert. Odira had thought Mr. Keene to be exaggerating when he said the woman had gone overboard; plainly, she had been mistaken in that! Dutifully, she removed the large bottle of lemonade and two glasses from their wicker prison, setting them gingerly on a wooden crate that had been upended into a table.

“I think we ought to start with this, lest we dehydrate before we settle on anything more!” the witch laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners in a smile. “I feel as though we ought to at least sample some of everything, lest we give offence, but it does not seem as though there are enough hours in the day to accomplish such a feat.”

Not that she would mind, of course, for Odira did so enjoy his company. Mr. Keene, though, was particularly busy man—she was privately rather impressed he had managed to make as much time for her as he had!